


Quitting

by 401



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Post CATWS, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, TW drug addiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 15:38:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5096009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/401/pseuds/401
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hydra had needed a quick way to keep Bucky calm during procedures, and drugs had been the easiest option. Now, he lives with Steve and the drugs are gone, but the addiction has not.</p><p>TW drug addiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quitting

Steve sat helpless on the edge of the bed, second-hand panic and tension knotting his shoulders as he watched Bucky’s blanket-swathed frame shake with dry sobs that made hardly any sound. The room was dark, but a subtle blue hue on the walls let the Captain know that morning was probably close.

“It’ll pass, Buck,” Steve whispered, fatigue and anxiety making his voice hoarse, “I promise you, it’ll pass.”  


Steve had known withdrawal and addiction from the sedatives Hydra had given Bucky was a real concern for him to have, he just had not anticipated quite how real until it had started to claw its way through the residual haze of drugs that remained in Bucky’s system when he had returned.

“Why did they have to make me go cold-turkey?” Bucky’s voice was taught, spoken through gritted teeth and weak with pain and unnamed panic, “They could’ve phased me out slowly or…”

Another wave of tremors and nausea caught the soldier’s words and strangled them to silence. Steve winced, carding a hand through Bucky’s hair, damp with sweat and untidy from tossing and turning. He let his hand fall still on Bucky’s left shoulder, feeling the gentle whir of mechanics under his fingers. The slight vibrations were more erratic than usual, in synchronisation with Bucky’s heartbeat, and angry throbbing of hydraulics and electricity that never paused.

“I spoke to Banner, he needs to figure out what it actually was that you were taking then maybe they can put you on some sort of a substitute or something,” Steve explained for the umpteenth time.

He didn’t mind. If over-explaining would in any way calm Bucky, he would do it till his face turned blue. The blood tests, scans, breathalysers and swabs were turning up very little as to _what_ exactly was in Bucky’s system. No opiates, barbiturates or methamphetamine derivatives to be seen, nothing that modern medicine could put its fine-tuned fingers on. All Bucky could tell them was that it was injected, that it made him docile in small doses and knocked him out in larger ones. And that he was desperately addicted to it.

Steve looked at the track marks on Bucky’s flesh arm, more visible with the tension in his forearm where he was gripping the pillows. He had scratched them raw so many times that they were usually in a constant state of inflammation, angry red circles that looked like cigarette scalds.

“Steve, I don’t need a substitute,” Bucky’s teeth gritted harder, “I need it to _stop._ ”

Steve took a breath to speak but let his shoulders sink when he found nothing he could say to help.

“Just…c’mere,” Steve sighed, rolling Bucky over gently and pulling him forward onto his lap, “Deep breaths, c’mon.”

Steve swayed his body gently, enough to form a motion but not so much that it would make Bucky any more nauseous than he already did. The Captain held Bucky tighter to his chest, cupping his cheek to secure him. The soldier’s whole body thrummed with a deep, muscular trembling that Steve could only imagine was really starting to hurt by now.

“I can sleep on the couch if you want,” Bucky whispered after a few moments, “You can get some sleep that way.”

Steve coughed a laugh.

“Shut up!” Steve chuckled, pressing a kiss into the top of Bucky’s head, “Don’t you dare.”  


Bucky sighed, nuzzling his face into the heat and security of Steve’s chest and concentrating. The shaking was subsiding, that helped at least.

“”You used to do this for me, anyway,” Steve shrugged, lying them down together and burying his nose against the back of Bucky’s neck, “When my asthma acted up, you’d stay up with me for hours.”  


Bucky paused and nodded. The memory was a vague one, but clear enough to be strangely comforting.

His arms, matching and human, wrapped around the blonde’s thin shoulders. Breathing in the smell of menthol salve and shampoo, providing warmth and comfort to someone dependent on him. Using his body to help, not harm. He would have given his life for that boy. He still would, only now Steve probably wouldn’t need him to.

“I love you Stevie,” Bucky muttered into the small dark space between them, clutching the Captain’s biceps to further anchor and steady himself.

Steve smiled. Most of the time, he didn’t even need to answer; Bucky knew. Steve was consistent and constant. A drug he would never have to quit.

 


End file.
